


Oral Fixation

by calkulator



Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Richie Tozier is a Little Shit, Richie gives a blowjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2021-01-02 05:46:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21156593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calkulator/pseuds/calkulator
Summary: Richie Tozier literally never stopped moving his mouth.





	Oral Fixation

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written fanfic in years but the only things I care about now are IT and spring awakening

Richie Tozier literally never stopped moving his mouth.  
It was like if he let his lips fall empty, something absolutely terrible would happen. He never shut up, and when he shut up, he was biting or chewing or sucking on something. He would finish a sucker and light a cigarette. His nails were chewed raw, the skin around them too. But mostly he talked.  
Stanley pretended to hate it. Richie would crack shitty jokes about fucking Eddie’s mom, and he’d roll his eyes and groan, and Richie would grin at him and lean in for a kiss. (Richie always smiled into a kiss, it was adorable.) But really, he loved to listen to Richie talk, or rather, watch him talk. He had perfectly soft pink cupids bows that moved rapidly around expertly cared-for, snow white teeth that had been rod straight since he’d gotten his braces out. When he stopped for a moment, he licked his lips. He stuck his tongue out just a little when he was thinking. Richie would catch Stan staring— he was pretty sure he knew, but he’d had the decency to not say anything yet— and make fun of him for not listening. All in good fun, of course.  
On the note of good fun, here was Stan, sitting across from Ritchie on the couch, legs crossed over one another as Richie spoke. He was as wild as always, motioning with one hand while the other periodically brought his cigarette to his lips. Black nails flicked the burnt-off ash into a tray on the end table.   
“I really want to go on a vacation to Europe,” Richie said, his voice coming out in the half-shout that Richie’s voice always was.  
“Yeah? Why’s that?” Stan asked, bemused. His head crooked to the side and he leaned forward, watching the way Richie pressed his lips around the cigarette. He curled his lips inwards.   
“There’s a fuck-ton of cool shit there. Rome, and all that, with the art. In Germany there’s an ass-ton of beer and I heard they even have this shit called kinderbeer that’s literally beer made for children that’s like, eighty percent sugar. France has the Eiffel tower, and also ladies with armpit hair.” Stan raised his eyebrows, pressing his hand to his forehead for a second.  
“You’re an enigma, Trashmouth.”  
While Stan had his eyes covered, Richie chose to lean forward across the couch and press a kiss to his lips.  
“For a trash mouth,” Richie smirked, pulling away, “you sure do like to stare at it.”  
Stan narrowed his eyes. “Shut the fuck up, Tozier.”  
“Make me.”  
Stan laced his fingers into Richie’s hair, tugging into another, significantly rougher kiss. Richie tugged gently on Stan’s lower lip with his teeth, ran his tongue along his lips, cupped the back of his head with one hand and used the other to brace himself as he leaned across the couch on his knees. Just when Stan thought he couldn’t breathe, Richie pulled away.  
“Why’d you stop?” Stan asked. pouting.  
“Admit it.”  
“Admit what?”  
“You’re obsessed with my mouth.”   
Red blossomed in bright flowers on Stan’s face, and when he opened his mouth to speak he found he couldn’t get the words out. He felt quite like Bill in that moment. When the unseen force of embarrassment finally let go of his tongue, all he could spit out was “Fuck you, Richie!”  
“Fuck me yourself, you coward.” Richie’s grin was enormous and infuriating. Stan abruptly sat up, leaned forward, and pushed him down against the couch, kissing him hard and grinding a knee between his legs. Richie moaned involuntarily into the kiss.  
“Who’s the coward now, Trashmouth?”   
Richie responded only by kissing him again, gathering Stan’s button-up in a handful on his back. Stan thought distantly about the fact that Richie was going to wrinkle the fabric. The forefront of his mind was dedicated to the way Richie had pulled away from his mouth and was kissing a line down his jaw, and now to his neck, those perfectly soft lips trailing goosebumps along his skin. When he reached the collar of Stan’s shirt, he nipped a little love-bite onto his neck, then pushed up on Stan’s chest. Stan sat up compliantly. Richie stopped and stared at him for a moment and Stan’s breath caught. He and Richie had never done much more than make out. Richie was asking permission. Stan gave him a little nod and Richie smiled again, palming Stan’s dick through his pants.  
Richie began to fumble awkwardly with the top button of Stan’s shirt, then worked at the next, and finally groaned. “There’s too many fucking buttons on your shirt.”  
“Sorry?” Stan said, deadpan. Richie kissed him, then abruptly dropped from the couch to the floor.  
“Here we go.” In one easy movement, he undid the button of Stanley’s slacks, undid the zipper, and slid them to the floor. Stan flushed again, the pink going all the way to his knees.  
“If you think you like my mouth now,” Richie smirked, “then you’re about to learn a little somethin’ from Professor Tozier.” Stan rolled his eyes, but his annoyed groan was cut off when Richie pressed his lips to his inner thigh, kissing up steadily closer to his cock. He was already hard, the tent in his boxers showing that, but Richie had just made him ten times as excited. The second he got close, he shifted to the other thigh and moved to brace his hand on Stan’s hip. His rough thumb brushed against the soft skin just under Stan’s waistband and Stan groaned with pleasure.   
“Don't get too excited, babe,” Richie laughed, pulling his lips away from Stan’s thigh. He stood over him and tugged him into a kiss. He was warmer now, and he cupped Stan’s face, brushing his thumb along his jawline, using the other hand to pull at Stanley’s boxers. Stan pulled himself up just enough for Richie to pull them free of his legs. He shivered as the air hit his exposed skin.  
Stan pouted as Richie pulled away. “You’re still fully clothed.” Richie rolled his eyes, still grinning, and tugged his shirt off.   
“Better?”  
“I guess.”  
Richie was on his knees again, kissing Stan’s thighs oh god fuck shit. Richie had wrapped his lips, his perfect soft lips, ever so delicately around the head of Stan’s cock, and when Stan opened his eyes to see Richie staring directly up at him, he almost came right then and there.  
Richie didn’t give him much time to recover. One hand on Stan’s thigh, nails digging into the soft flesh, and the other around the base of his dick, he ran his tongue against its length, sending a shudder through Stan’s entire body. He pressed a small, close-mouthed kiss to Stan’s cock. “Richie,” Stan exhaled, and he felt the man in question smile into the kiss.   
Richie swirled his tongue around Stan’s cock in one long spiral, expertly digging his nails into the flesh of his thigh. They were short, but they were sharp, and the pain complemented the pleasure perfectly. Stan found himself straining not to arch his back, push into Richie’s touch. He took the head of Stan’s cock fully into his mouth, his lips forming an ‘o’ as they moved closer to the base, and the wet heat of Richie’s mouth was so much, he was swirling his tongue around while Stan’s dick was in his mouth, fuck.. Stan gasped and bucked his hips. Richie’s eyes flew open and he made a small gagging noise.  
Stan burned with embarrassment. “Sorry.”  
“It’s fine,” Richie said, and if Stan didn’t know any better he’d say Richie looked blissed out. He spit into his palm, then wrapped it again around the base of Stan’s dick.  
Maybe he didn’t know better. Richie guided Stan’s cock to his lips again and then moved his hand away. Stan whined a moment for the lost warmth, and then Richie swallowed his cock to the base.  
Stan inhaled, his eyes widening with pleasure and shock, and found a fistful of Richie’s hair, which he practically yanked. He felt Richie’s breath catch and he saw stars as his throat closed around his cock. Richie’s hand, now free, had moved down to the zipper of his own jeans, where he pulled his own dick free of his boxers and began to pump it, slowly at first but gaining speed. He was getting off to just sucking Stan off. He bobbed his head for a few strokes and Stan’s mind went blank. He ground his hips up into Richie’s mouth, biting his lip hard when he felt Richie’s tongue swirl around his cock again, and Richie pushed down harder. Stan felt him swallow around his dick and that was too much. When Richie came up again, Stan used his grip on his hair to force him back down, and Richie moaned around his cock, bucking into his own hand. Stanley figured Richie would eventually have to breathe, but he used this opportunity to push a few desperate thrusts into Richie’s throat, throwing his head back against the couch.  
Stan felt Richie gag and the other pulled off, but before he let Stan go he gave the head one hard suck, like the dum-dums he was constantly eating. Stan moaned. “Fuck, Richie.”  
Gasping for air, Richie kissed the tip of his dick. “Admit it or I won’t finish you.”  
Stan’s voice came out in more of a whine than he intended. He’d honestly forgotten by now when he asked, “What?”  
“You’re obsessed with my mouth.” He ran a thumb over the slit of Stan’s dick, more than a little precum dribbling from its tip, and Stan shuddered. Fuck.  
“I am.”  
“You’re what?” In that second, Stan knew that even on his knees, Richie was in absolute control of this situation. He pouted as Richie smirked up at him.  
“I’m obsessed with your mouth.”  
“Good boy!” Richie closed his eyes and swallowed Stan whole again, angling his head just so, bobbing up and down. Stan panted with desperation. Richie hadn’t yet stopped jerking himself off, and the thought of it made Stan arch his back harder, tug at Richie’s hair harder.   
Richie’s strokes became wild, desperate, and his sucking became sloppier too. Stan felt a familiar burning warmth building in his stomach for only a few seconds before he bucked into Richie mouth, letting out one embarrassingly loud gasp as he reached his climax. It took Richie only a few seconds to do the same, coming in his own hand as he pulled off of Stan’s dick. He waited until he was making eye contact with Stan to swallow, licking his lips clean.  
“Fuck,” Stan said, again. This was apparently the only thing he could say as he panted with exhaustion, collapsing finally against the couch.  
Richie climbed up off of the floor to straddle Stan’s lap, and Stan shivered involuntarily at the feeling of denim against his thighs and oversensitive dick.  
“I told you you were obsessed,” Richie smirked, leaning in to kiss him.  
“Shut up, Trashmouth.”


End file.
